


The Fire and the Forge

by Shadaras



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, PTSD, Post-Iron Man 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, they say. What they don't mention is that sometimes it breaks you first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She convinced him to let her sleep alone the first night, and she’d told him it was because she was still terrified of accidentally setting him on fire. He hadn’t even protested much, something she thought was more due to his utter exhaustion (and vast array of bruises and strains and _Christ_ how had he kept himself from breaking bones as he’d been punched out and fallen again and again...) than actually _listening_ to her (though that might be possible, now; he _had_ blown up the suits for her, after all).

Though, lying on a bed in the halfway rebuilt Stark Tower in New York (Avengers Tower, the news had started rebranding it, and Pepper was inclined to let that name stick; it was different, at least) and being alone with fear wasn’t precisely the best way to sleep, even if she _had_ spent the last day primarily surrounded by terror and adrenaline and fire. When she’d sent Tony off to his bed with a kiss, she’d thought that she’d fall into bed and fall asleep. As it was... Pepper sighed and flipped over again, wrapping the smooth blankets yet closer around her body. The room was standard: neutrally-colored walls; simple, square corners; bed carefully placed opposite the door; ‘window’ that was really a viewscreen hooked into JARVIS’ network; bedside table with a variety of plugs and a blinking clock display that she’d turned off what she suspected was hours ago; the list went on. It was exactly the same as every other guest room in the Tower. She’d slept in them many times before; what made _this_ so different?

“ _Fuck_.” She bit into the blanket wrapped around her, huddling even further into its depths. It wasn’t solid enough for its warmth, didn’t have the ability to comfort her that the thick old quilts she’d grown up with did. She could call JARVIS, ask for something, but that felt entirely too much like giving up, and she couldn’t bring herself to do that. So instead she tried to relax, breathing as steadily as she could and paying close attention to every muscle in her body. She’d done yoga; she knew how this was supposed to work. Not that she had any faith that it would, right now. Not when everything about her was trembling, on fire in a way she couldn’t quite call adrenaline, but wasn’t as purely overwhelming as Extremis had been when she—

Pepper breathed.

Focus on breath, the rise and fall of her chest. Her fingers tangled in the sheets. Yes. Unlock those, pry them free. Legs don’t need to be drawn up to the chest, do they? Loosen those muscles, let them slide back, just a few inches, just enough to pretend that she can breathe, she can move. Force those shoulders down; feeling protected wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t move her neck without strain. Pull her head up a fraction of an inch, release some of that tension. Wrap the blankets tighter, as if cloth and a wall made of steel, plastic, and more electronics than she wants to think about could protect her from memory.

Through her eyelids, she saw a faint blue glow. Suspiciously, she opened an eye, and saw a message light blinking on the bedside display. “JARVIS?” She frowned. “I thought I told you—”

“Your request has been overridden, Ms. Potts.” JARVIS’ voice sounded exactly the same as every time he talked. That, more than anything else, was a comfort. “Mr. Stark—”

“Fuck him and his override codes.” Pepper rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Ms. Potts,” JARVIS continued, not responding to her unenthusiastic condemnation, “Mr. Stark would like you to come eat breakfast with him. He requested I only deliver the message if you were awake.”

“Did he really?” She sighed. “Do I want to know what time it is?” After a brief silence, she pulled a hand free and rubbed her eyes. “Let me rephrase that. What time is it, and did I sleep at all?”

“It is 7:26am. You slept for approximately three hours, in intervals of approximately twenty to forty minutes.”

That was something. Pepper forced herself to sit up, to say, “Thank you, JARVIS. Tell Tony I’ll join him soon.” She stood up, shivering at the loss of the blanket’s warmth, and walked to the closet to find comfortable clothing to wear. She wasn’t going to see anyone today, other than Tony. If she did, she—

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” she growled, bracing herself on the closet’s doorframe. _Breathe_ , she reminded herself. Carefully, one muscle at a time, she straightened and looked at herself in the mirror. Dilated eyes, pale skin, overall dishevelment – if nobody knew what had happened to her, she thought that they might not be able to see how panicked she was. That was something. Keep hold of that. She’d dealt with Tony for years, kept her head through disasters, let only a select people see how scared she was at Tony’s possible death every time it came up, which was far too often – she could hide this, too, couldn’t she?

“And of course thinking about _him_ dying doesn’t scare me,” she told her reflection, exasperated. “I’ve only needed to live through that _how_ many times now? Four or five? No, his probable death by terrible idea doesn’t scare me at all.” She threw up her hands and scowled, finger-combing her hair and tying it back in a ponytail. “This is bullshit.” She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater that she could justify because it was Christmastime, and she wasn’t in California anymore, even if the Tower was heated. She turned towards the door, and then hesitated. “JARVIS?” she called. “I have make-up here still, don’t I?”

“Yes, Ms. Potts. There should be some in the washroom.”

“Thank you.” She turned and strode into the washroom, more confident in this than in facing the world outside this set of rooms. Carefully, she withdrew the – more basic than she would have liked – makeup kit. Even that was enough, though; eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick were constants. Enough to deflect attention from the shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin – let anyone who saw her wonder if that was because of the contrast of her makeup or if it was real. If she’d done her job correctly, they’d guess wrongly, save for the shadows of bad sleep. That, at least, was expected. She smiled, lips stretching in an expression that shouldn’t feel strange but somehow did anyway. Work for Stark Industries tended to cause lack of sleep. Most people lost sleep to projects, though, not their own mind.

Pepper’s smile faded. She turned away from the mirror, and, before she could think better of it, walked out the door, heading for the core of the building and the elevators. She could deal with Tony now, she thought, so long as he wasn’t in one of his moods. To be fair, if he was in one of his moods she’d never been able to deal with him; she simply understood how to manage him and make sure he didn’t starve or fall over from lack of sleep. Waiting for the elevator, she leaned against the cool metal walls and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could handle it. She could be calm and polite and keep herself under control until Tony and Bruce and whoever they brought in from S.H.I.E.L.D. found a solution.

And, she added, muscles trembling beneath her baggy clothing, she would find a way to feel safe even when she wore clothing that exposed her by necessity. There was no room for error. She had to, or Stark Industries would fail, and she didn’t think she could live with that dramatic a failure mode for her life. The elevator _ding_ ed softly, and Pepper Potts raised her head and stepped into it, letting JARVIS take her to whichever floor the kitchen had ended up on. She stared her faint reflection in the eyes, resolute. She _could_ find a way to keep herself together, and she _would_. It was, as ever, just a matter of finding a solution to an improbable problem. “And I do _that_ every day, don’t I?” She laughed, then pressed fingers to the corners of her eyes to blot out tears.

It’d be okay. She clung to that promise, clung to the ingenuity and refusal to give up that characterized Tony’s work ethic when he found a project he loved. Even if it was more than a little manic, it worked. It always worked, in the end.

She just hoped it wouldn’t blow one or both of them up first.


	2. Chapter 2

Pepper smiled a little as she stepped out of the elevator into the scent of burnt... well, everything, she suspected. It was sweet when he cooked, it really was, but Tony’s attention span didn’t tend to lend itself well to cooking anything except very simple meals or overly elaborate meals where darting from task to task was a benefit and not likely to lead to forgetting about food and tinkering with the oven instead. From the scent of burning, she guessed that he’d tried to make breakfast and then either fallen asleep or gotten fixated on fixing something. Or maybe he just didn’t have any idea how long bacon was supposed to cook for, and had tampered with the toaster so that it worked too well and had forgotten about his tinkering. It was hard to tell, with Tony.

As she approached, Pepper heard the strains of Tony’s omnipresent rock track resonating down the hall. Suppressing a smile, she said, “JARVIS, would you please turn his music down enough for conversation?” The resulting drop in volume was a relief, and she entered the kitchen to the pleasant surprise of an utter lack of smoke.

“Pepper!” Tony said, voice all chemical highs and rough tones that could either be smoke inhalation or too much time spent talking to himself, singing, or berating his assistant ‘bots; if there were distinctions, Pepper had never discovered them. “I’m glad you’re here.” He stood up, grinning, hands moving wildly through the air as he approached her. “I mean, I’m not glad you’re _awake_ , exactly; I’d been hoping you’d sleep, but since you’re awake I’m glad you’re here and just...” His voice trailed off as he came to a stop a step away from her, and his hands dropped to his sides. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be around me, after last night,” he admitted, words soft, strained, almost inaudible beneath the music. “So I’m glad you came.”

She smiled at him, the expression barely a strain. Despite everything, he was exactly the same. If she just looked at him, at the kitchen, Pepper could almost pretend that this was the aftermath of some _other_ terrible decision he’d made, not one that revolved so intimately around her. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” she admitted, passing by him, carefully not touching even his clothes with hers, too afraid despite the amount of comfort he could give when he was present. She sat, back to a wall, and Tony leaned back against the counter, face serious, eyes in all their brightness focused solely on her. “I’m not sure what kept me up, either.”

“Nightmares of fiery zombie-demons?” he suggested, voice far too chipper for his face. “That’s why I’m awake.”

If she hadn’t been looking, Pepper might have missed the pause, the flinch. She braced her chin on a fisted hand, raised her eyebrows at Tony. She could deal with this, deal with him and his terrors.

“Well.” He looked up to the ceiling, rubbing at his face with one hand (not stained with grease or oil, for once). “The one that made me give up on sleep was the one of you dying.”

Pepper flinched, as much as she tried to cover it. She sank back into the chair, biting the inside of her lip. She had guessed that was coming. Hearing Tony say it, though, hearing him say it in a voice raw and honest as he rarely was even with her... it hurt, knotting tight in her chest where she couldn’t name it, somewhere near her own pain and nightmares and the fleeting thought she’d spend last night trying to banish, of _What would have happened if I_ had _died?_

“Pep, honey, are you—”

She batted away his hand, trying to keep her breath even. “Of course I’m not okay.” She bit off the words, knowing they were rough with tears more than anger and not sure if he’d notice, and looked up, meeting his eyes despite the water gathering in her own. “I was kidnapped by a man who used me as _bait_ for you, because apparently I’m not worth enough to be worth capturing on my _own_ , injected with something that was as likely to kill me as not and _still_ might kill me – possibly you as well – and you ask me if I’m _okay_?” She leaned back over the table, helpless to stop the tears now, and laughing all the same, curled tight into her own arms.

She hadn’t wanted to admit it, had wanted Tony to see her as strong, as triumphant over something that he’d faced alone and seemed to have mostly gotten over. Looking at him, though, looking at him while he watched her with the complete focus she normally only saw when he was creating something... she didn’t know how she’d spent the night thinking she could pretend to him. If she hadn’t told him, no doubt he would have seen right through her anyway; it just would have taken a little bit longer.

Tony’s hand rested very gently on her shoulder, almost hovering. Pepper laughed, self-deprecating. He was afraid she’d jerk away. She’d given him more than enough reason for that thought, she knew. She wanted to – half her thoughts, as she realized how close Tony was standing, were about how she might burst into flames because of unleashed emotions – and her muscles ached with the effort of forcing herself to stillness. “How did you stand it?” she asked, unsure if he’d be able to understand her words through her gummed-up throat and her arms and hair still hiding her head from his view.

“Being captured?”

Pepper nodded, slowly calming her body from shakes to trembles, from screaming muscles to shouting thoughts. _No_ , she told herself. _Tony isn’t going to hurt me._ She paused, and then added, _Not intentionally, anyway._

She heard the scraping of a chair against the tiled floor, the rustle of cloth as Tony sat. His hand didn’t move. It gained more weight, more pressure, against her shoulder, though. “I made the suit.” He said it so very simply, as if it were self-evident. And maybe it was, if she thought about it. “I mean, it was easier because I had something to fight against, y’know? Some adversary that I could hunt down. But mostly I built stuff.” She felt him shrug. “I don’t think you can do anything quite like that.”

Pepper laughed, and this time it was almost real. It hurt, raking against her throat and coming out harsh but true. She leaned against Tony, without really thinking about it, and then his arms were around her, his face against the back of her neck, and she froze. He kissed her, lips rough and gentle on her nape, and slowly let go. She sighed, forehead resting against the table now. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed her back. “You’re better at this than I was after the whole Avengers thing,” he pointed out, the clipped sound of his voice the only indication of how much the memory of the Chitauri affected him. “I didn’t admit to _anything_.”

“No,” she said, smiling though he couldn’t see. “You built your suits.”

“And didn’t let anyone know just how many there were.”

“You coped the only way you knew how.” Pepper rubbed at her face with the sleeve of her sweater. Maybe she’d be able to clean all the makeup off with tears and cloth. She doubted it, but it was nice to hope. “And I cope by crying, apparently.”

“Yeah, well. That method makes it easier to admit you might need help.” Pepper raised her head and turned at that mix of bitterness and warmth. Tony looked at her, mouth twisted in an expression of wry regret she normally associated with one of his bots messing up. His face relaxed into a smile as she looked at him, and he waved at the sink. “You want to clean yourself up?”

She managed a smile in return and nodded. He lifted up his hand, and Pepper stood, belatedly realizing how much of a comfort his hand had been on her, and how much she wanted that warmth and contact. She walked around him and over to the sink, looking around the kitchen for evidence of food as she did so. “What were you even _eating_?” she finally asked, turning the faucet on.

“Oh, um.” She could _hear_ him wince. “I was _going_ to have toast. And then I kind of burnt the toast to the point where it stuck in the toaster, and then JARVIS said that you’d be coming up soon, so I didn’t want to go find tools to take it apart and fix it, so I was mostly just eating Nutella. I saved some for you?”

Somehow, Pepper thought that some of the water she was rubbing off her face with the makeup was caused by tears, not of fear or sorrow but of laughter. “I was wondering why the kitchen wasn’t a mess,” she said after a moment. “If it’s because someone cleaned up and you haven’t been back here recently enough to leave tools everywhere, I’m much less surprised.”

“Hey!”

This time, Pepper laughed aloud, and, after a couple seconds, Tony joined her, and she thought his laugh was just as unsteady and stress-filled as hers. That, more than anything else, reassured her, and when she turned to face him again, the smile on his face was as real as it had been any of the times they’d seen each other after a near-death exploit, and she couldn’t help but match it with one of her own.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re going to make it okay.”

Pepper met his eyes and nodded, unable to form any words through the lump in her throat. She could do this. And, more than that, _they_ could do this. Together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!
> 
> I'm wonderful at gifts. I finally update this and it manages to be sad and depressing.

Even after breakfast, Tony didn’t disappear into his workshop. He... well, he _hovered_. Pepper didn’t know if she thought it sweet or infuriating. Any other time, it would be lovely. Right now, the constant presence wore on her, and she couldn’t quite formulate the words to tell him that it was okay if he went and tinkered, really, it was, she’d be okay.

They’d both know that was a lie, but it was a pretense of how things were supposed to be, at least.

Pepper cleaned the kitchen. Tony kept moving, all angles and arms and smile and hands she kept away from the toaster, because he’d break it if he got his hands on it again. At some point when she was fixated washing dishes (repetitive motions, warm water, turning things made dirty pure again; she didn’t want to think too deeply on why it was so calming but it was), Pepper was fairly certain he had fetched a toolkit from somewhere, because when she’d looked up he’d had the toaster in his hands and she’d rolled her eyes and carefully taken it away.

“We really don’t need anything to blow up just now, okay?” she’d said, and his eyes had flickered, behind the tinted glasses that he insisted were retro and thus cool. She’d pretended not to notice. In return, he didn’t say anything about the way her hands trembled as she put the toaster, burnt bread and all, back on the kitchen counter.

She spent the rest of the morning aimless, unsure of what to do – unsure of what she _could_ do, if she wanted to be honest with herself. Tony had his endless projects, and he could always start working on one of those and it didn’t matter if he broke it, because it wasn’t going to affect anyone else anyway. What did she have? Endless paperwork, phone calls, calendars...

The list went on and it didn’t get any more personal; it just got more depressingly obvious how much of herself she’d given to Stark Industries, and how little time she had for anything of her own. She read, of course, but when she tried that (after lunch ordered from an Italian place nearby; she picked at the noodles and finally just put her portion in a fridge for later), she found herself rereading sentences without realizing it, and having no idea what had happened just before.

At last, as the sun’s too-short time in the sky fell away, she turned to Tony – currently tinkering with some sort of light-up elf toy – and said, “I think I need a break.”

“Huh?” The toy sparked in his hands and he swore, dropping it on the ground. “From what?”

“This. Being around people. Everything connected to...” Pepper pressed her fist into in forehead. “That.”

“Okay. Um.” He knelt, picking up the dubiously-safe toy, and looked up at her. “How can I help?”

“Give me some space. Start working on a way to cure Extremis.” She managed to say the word without her voice breaking, though in her head she could still see _his_ face, still feel fire consuming her, and she shivered. “I’m going to call Natasha.” They’d become close, since the Avengers Initiative. As close as a secret agent and the CEO of a world-wide company can become, anyway, considering the demands on their time.

“I— what?” He stared at her, eyes bright and hair wild, looking lost.

“You said you’d figure something out, didn’t you?” She leaned against the wall, looking down at her feet, arms wrapped around herself, clutching her sweatshirt. “Please.” She almost got the word out without her voice breaking. Almost got it out as a request and not one of the last threads keeping her together – the promise that she wouldn’t stay like this, that she’d be able to be normal, not... not an unconsenting superhero or something.

“Yes. Okay. I can start doing that, definitely, don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

The babble of words coming out of Tony’s mouth was enough to make her smile, at least a little, a tightening of muscles around her lips that felt wrong and forced even though it was unasked for. “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.” A pause. “I’ll go to the lab now. Start working. I’ll tell you as soon as I have something.” He passed in front of her, and she felt the hesitation, the fractional warmth before she pulled back in on herself and he left, no gesture beyond that break in his stride to show his care.

Pepper closed her eyes. “JARVIS, once I’m back in my room, please do your best to get hold of Natasha for me.”

“I shall do my utmost, Ms. Potts.” The electronic voice sounded comforting, almost more than Tony himself managed most days. Perhaps it had to do with how JARVIS’ voice was always calm, and Tony’s rarely was.

She sighed and started walking towards the guest room she had claimed as her own. She had managed to acquire a proper makeup set, at least, and proper clothing. Things she didn’t need to leave the tower for, and for which JARVIS already knew her preferences. She couldn’t remember actually asking JARVIS to buy them for her; he might have done so on his own, or Tony might have thought of it. Not that it mattered; it had happened, and she was grateful.

Inside her room, Pepper wrapped herself back up in blankets, ones that were almost thick enough to keep off the chill that began inside her chest and worked its way to the air around her, and waited for JARVIS to find Natasha’s current contact information. The waiting tones that JARVIS played softly through her room as he searched were meditative, not the usual classical tunes. It was nice, though it wasn’t as soothing as JARVIS likely hoped.

She snapped out of her stupor as Natasha’s voice came through JARVIS’ speakers. “Pepper? I’ve heard some of what happened, but I’ve been a bit busy. What do you need?”

Pepper let her head fall back against the headboard of the bed. “Someone to talk to who understands being used.”

The silence that followed lengthened, until Pepper wasn’t sure if Natasha had actually heard her; she really hadn’t spoken very loudly, after all, afraid of what would happen if she tried to truly voice her concerns. At last, Natasha said, voice far softer than usual, “I can be there in a day. I just need to wrap up one or two things, and then I can tell SHIELD to find another agent for the next few weeks. It’s been a while since I had a vacation, anyway; they really can’t complain.”

“Thank you,” Pepper whispered, throat closing up, tears welling once more in her eyes. She blinked, rapidly, trying to keep them away for now. “I really... thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all.” Another gap, almost a smile, and then Natasha’s voice sharpened. “I’m sorry I can’t talk longer, but I really need to get moving if I want to be at the Tower tomorrow. Don’t do anything rash, alright?”

Pepper laughed, a croaking, choked sound. “That’s Tony’s job, remember? I’m the one who has their head on straight around here.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Natasha out.”

The line cut – signaled by an old-fashioned click like the receiver had been set down – and Pepper let herself slide down until she was curled up once more in her bed, wrapped up and curled into a fetal ball. She was crying again, body wracking itself with sobs, she realized. She didn’t mind, really; it was okay, especially here, where she was alone, and nobody could get to her without setting off tens of alarms.

She was safe. She’d soon be even safer, with Natasha around.

Maybe, just maybe, she could let herself go, and she’d be okay, not consumed by fire, not hurt, not battered and broken and used; maybe she’d be able to become more than just another survivor.

Maybe she’d even be able to acknowledge, she thought, somewhere distant and disconnected, that she’d been abused.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> Rape/sexual assault  
> PTSD (flashbacks)  
> Physical assault/drugging  
> General Killian-being-creepy

He smiled at her, and it didn’t reach his eyes. Cold metal bit at her arms and legs, hard plastic kissed her joints. She glared at him, because it was all she could do – she’d sworn at him until he put a leather gag in her mouth – “So that you don’t bite your tongue,” he’d said, all sweetness and mad light. She’d tried to spit it out and it just made him smile and hold it in place even more firmly as he secured it, until her jaw burned from the pressure and her eyes ached from her refusal to blink, because blinking might release her tears. She couldn’t have that, not when he already thought her weak simply because she was a woman caught.

So she waited and burned her fear to fuel her hatred. Whatever Killian had once been, however brilliant he’d been, nothing could redeem him now.

“I was so glad when I discovered you were with Stark,” Killian said, adjusting the placement of her leg in its straps.

His fingers lingered on the inside of her thigh, just above the knee. Though the warmth was pleasant in contrast to the metal, Pepper wished that it were someone else – almost anyone else – touching her.

“I’ve wanted to have another chat with you for _quite_ a long time.”

The way he looked at her didn’t seem human. His blue eyes – once she’d thought them pretty, though she’d had no interest in the person they belonged to – caught her face and ate it, data entered into a spreadsheet and calculated until the result appeared. _Attractive_ , the entry might read. _Useful prey – Stark cares about this one._

“And no,” he continued, straightening and brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Talking to you in an official capacity didn’t count. I was an AIM representative talking to Stark Industries. This is... personal.”

Pepper wished with all her heart that she could rip herself free from all these bonds and throttle him. She’d had her chance, she’d tried, but, for all her strength, he was larger, had longer arms, had _practice_ with this. And he’d gagged her, so she couldn’t even try to bite his damned fingers as they traced her cheekbones, or his lips where they hovered in front of hers, very carefully not touching but did that matter when she could feel every word he spoke trace itself in hot breath on her face?

“You see, I quite like you.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. He couldn’t take _that_ reaction from her, at least.

“Yes, yes, I know.” He stepped back and carefully folded his hands behind his back. “It’s rather obvious, now that I say it like that. Why else would I have brought you here, after all? Oh, certainly, I _could_ have captured you to get to Stark – and that _is_ a nice side-effect – but this?” Killian waved a hand at the machinery surrounding her. “This is special. I believe that you have the strength to join me in my mission. Therefore, I am sharing this with you.”

The syringe Killian held glowed. Pepper closed her eyes, bracing herself. This wasn’t happening. She’d seen his superpowered minions as he brought her in, seen the way they glowed. She’d even managed to talk the scraps of JARVIS’ database she’d had access to into telling her what Tony had been researching when everything had gone to hell.

Mostly, she was just _very_ displeased with the idea of having the potential, if she lost control, to blow up everything in at least a twenty-foot radius.

But she opened her eyes, trying not to think about how very _pleased_ Killian seemed that she did, and looked at him with as steady a gaze as she could manage.

“You recognize this? Good. I won’t need to explain what I’m doing, then.”

Before she had time to even think a protest, he’d stepped forward and stabbed her, and before she could process where or what, her body felt like it was on fire and she screamed through the gag. As her nervous system cradled her gently, pulling her into unconsciousness, she heard Killian’s laugh, felt his lips – too tender, too warm even against the lightning raging inside her skin – on hers, and she screamed defiance to a non-existent God, her last thought of survival so that she could rip him apart like he’d raped her...

-=-

Pepper woke screaming, heart pounding and feeling like everything around her was burning. Hands clutched thin sheets that did nothing to protect her, eyes unseeing saw metal reflecting her image, again and again, from the walls, the ceiling, the floor – herself a hundred times, pale face surrounded by fire and eyes a burning blue the heart of the flame.

Cloth in her hands and she _could_ scream, her face shown to her and she wasn’t consumed by lava. JARVIS’ voice calmly reciting her name, location, and the date and time, along with reassurances that she was okay. Cloth in her hands. No metal. No men. Nothing consuming her except herself and that was okay, that wasn’t hurting anyone, not right now.

She’d just been dreaming.

Nothing more.

Pepper wrapped the blankets around her more tightly, taking comfort in the softness, in the freedom to move, in the warmth that curled around her, soothing sunlight to the fires she’d dreamt. She didn’t think she could speak, tell JARVIS “Thank you” and that he didn’t need to keep talking. He seemed to understand anyway, though; he finished his final statement (“We will protect you”) and fell silent, leaving her to simple sounds of heartbeat and breathing, the heating and the faint buzz of electricity that filled the tower. Sounds of life.

She counted her heartbeats, her breaths, slowing them consciously until she could think again. “JARVIS? What time is it? Has Natasha contacted us further?”

“It is 5:48am. Natasha sent a brief message telling you to expect her for lunch.”

“Thank you.” Pepper rested her forehead on her knees. She could do this. She could get through the morning. Once Natasha arrived, they could talk, and she would help, of course she would, she wouldn’t be coming if she wasn’t planning on helping.

“Miss Potts, Mr. Stark requested that I alert him when you wished to see him again.”

“I’m not sure I can stand people right now, JARVIS.”

“I will relay that to Mr. Stark when he wakes.”

She sighed. “He’s in his workshop, isn’t he. When he wakes up, please let me know; I might be more sociable by that point.”

“Of course, Miss Potts. Is there anything further?”

“There’s a computer interface in here somewhere, I’m sure. I’d like to at least try to make sure Stark Industries isn’t collapsing without us. That will be all, thank you.”

The pause before a piece of wall siding slid out seemed doubting, somehow. Pepper shook her head and slid off the bed. She didn’t bother unwrapping the blanket; nobody was going to see her anytime soon, and it was a comfort. The computer was, unsurprisingly, already logged into her Stark Industries account.

With her face composed to stubborn serenity, Pepper sat down at the computer and began the long, draining process of sorting through the flood of emails marked URGENT for those few that truly were, hoping she’d finish before Tony woke up. Maybe then she’d be able to eat breakfast. Hell, maybe by then she’d be _hungry_ for breakfast.

One could always hope.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning passed by in a haze. Pepper gave up on the emails once she realized that at least half of them weren’t about Stark Industries, but emails from acquaintances and friends emailing her work address to ask if she and Tony (sometimes just Tony, once or twice just her) were okay. Breakfast was full of Tony rambling about his experiments, and that was soothing enough; nothing had blown up on him, and he seemed to understand, after a few attempts to get more of a response than a nod or a quick smile, that she wasn’t up for conversation; his voice helped fill a void that she wasn’t sure she could name, and that was enough.

When Tony’s voice finally ran ragged – a sure sign that he’d been up on coffee for most of the time she’d been hiding in her room – Pepper said, “Go sleep,” her own voice rough around the edges from self-imposed silence and tears.

Tony looked like he wanted to protest, somewhere under the scruff and hollow eyes. Those shadows had been around for months; now, though, they seemed like bruises, not dirt and oil.

“Sleep,” Pepper said, more firmly. “I’ll be okay. Natasha’s coming over.”

“I— What?”

“I called her and asked.” She crossed her arms defensively, huddling deeper into the sweater she wore.

Tony raised his hands, palms open to her. “Hey, it’s not like that. That’s great! She’s great. I just thought she was off saving the world somewhere in Europe.”

“She was.”

“And now... she isn’t?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Tony, get some sleep.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine.” Pepper forced herself to relax enough to smile and reach out a hand to Tony. “Really.”

Tony scowled at her. Sort of. It was meant to be a scowl, she was sure; it mostly came off as a grimace, since he was smiling at the same time as he tried to scowl.

His hand closed around her fingers briefly, a squeeze that dug further into her heart than she’d expected. Pepper closed her eyes, forcing back tears that came too easily to the surface now. Before she opened her eyes again, she heard Tony push his chair back, felt his hand rest on her shoulder, body warm even though the layers she had surrounded herself with. She leaned into his touch, unthinking, and jerked back as soon as she realized what she was doing.

Head down, eyes still closed, Pepper _felt_ the hesitation in Tony’s silence, his stillness before he started walking away again, sock-clad feet soft but audible on the tiled floor. As the door slid open and shut again, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Tony almost certainly didn’t hear her, but it made her feel better to say it anyway.

She stayed there, head down against her arms, until JARVIS made a polite coughing sound and said, “Natasha has arrived. Should I direct her here?”

“Please do.” Pepper tried to calculate how long it had been; came up with a vague suspicion that she had fallen asleep on the table from the soreness of her muscles and dryness of her eyes. She grimaced, but if anyone was going to see her like this, she’d rather it be JARVIS and Natasha; JARVIS knew everything that happened in the Tower as it was, and Natasha could find out if she tried at all.

Pepper did spend the time until Natasha arrived finger-combing her hair so that it was halfway presentable, even tucked back in a ponytail. The rest of her appearance couldn’t be changed so easily, and her hair was so easily visible, so easily contrasted to her usual appearance, unlike her clothing – sweatshirts and loose, comfortable pants were so unlike her work outfits that she didn’t know if anyone who had met her like that would recognize her, not really. Not that it mattered, but... it did. Somehow. She didn’t really want to know why.

When the door opened on Natasha, Pepper smiled. She was dressed in casual, practical clothing: jeans and a close-fitting sweater, under a thick wool jacket that was too styled for her current dress; she’d likely not changed that from her disguise wherever she had been before Pepper had asked her to come. Her hair had grown past her shoulders, though Pepper wasn’t sure of the exact length, considering the braid it was currently kept in. Natasha moved with the grace and ease of a predator, pacing the length of the floor until she could spin a chair backwards and take a seat next to Pepper, the open side of the chair facing out into the empty room.

“Of all the people I know, you’re one of the only ones who can get me to pull so many strings.” Natasha said it with an easy smile, but her tone was straightforward, worried even. “Records can tell me a lot, especially since Rhodey was involved, but they can’t tell me what happened when you weren’t in sight of Stark tech.”

Pepper laughed, looking away from Natasha’s too-steady eyes and back at her hands clasped on the table. “I appreciate your willingness to strike straight to the heart of things,” she said, keeping her tone light by pure force of will. Tears were gathering in her eyes anyway. “But, I...” She wiped her eyes, bit her lip. “It’s not that easy.”

“I didn’t think it would be,” she said, voice softening. Natasha held out a hand, keeping it visible, distant from Pepper, so that she didn’t need to take it. “But sometimes it is, and in those times it’s easier to just start talking and never stop.”

Pepper hesitated, and then took Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her lap and clutching it like her life depended on it. Natasha’s hand carried calluses all across it; palm and fingers, knuckles; the only parts that weren’t rough were the back of her hand and the very center of her palm, which, respectively, weren’t exposed often and bent too much to build up proper calluses.

As she held Natasha’s hand, the woman reached out to place her other hand on Pepper’s shoulder, her grip strong and firm but somehow not holding her anywhere, not binding her to this place. Pepper smiled, and leaned into Natasha, letting herself cry, letting herself _hear_ , for the first time, the truth in Natasha’s words as the Black Widow, master of, _veteran_ of, psychological breakdowns, told her that even if she wasn’t okay right now, she would be. She had help. She was safe. And _that man_ was gone for good and wouldn’t be coming back anymore.

It was that last one, more than anything else, that Pepper clung to, that last one that made her start talking again.

“I _know_ he’s gone, I guess?” She wasn’t sure if Natasha could understand all her words; crying choked her voice and stuffed her up. “He came back and then he didn’t. And even if he did come back, everyone would just kill him again.”

Natasha rubbed slow circles into her back. “Very true.”

“But what he did...”

“I know he injected Extremis into you,” Natasha said, after she had been silent for a time. “I know that it saved your life, as terrible as it is.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t tell you anything about how he did it.” Pepper shivered, curling tighter into herself as the memory tried to resurface again.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I...” Pepper bit her lip, looked down at where her hands, pale to begin with, turned near-white around Natasha’s hand. “I don’t know.”

“If you do, I’ll listen. And either way—” her voice sharpened “—I will teach you how to hurt anyone who tries to capture you again.”

Pepper laughed, though her tears, and said, somehow, “Thank you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha led her down to the gym that Tony had probably had installed with her at least a little in mind. If anyone else was in the tower – and Pepper was just beginning to realize that, normally, there would be staff around – she didn’t see any, and she was grateful for that. As they walked, avoiding the elevators for reasons that Pepper really didn’t want to ask about, Natasha began explaining why Happy, as wonderful a person as he was, just didn’t understand how to teach women to fight.

“He’s given you some basic training, I know,” Natasha said, walking backwards down the stairs without missing a step or even using the railing. “But there’s a difference between keeping your head enough to try and hurt someone and knowing the most effective way to use leverage to damage someone. We’re smaller than most men, but that doesn’t mean we’re any weaker.”

Pepper grinned. “You’ve said. And proven as much, but you’ve got... well, a lifetime of training, right?” She ducked her head, biting the inside of her lip. “That makes a difference.”

“Against people who expect me to try something.” The Black Widow’s no-nonsense voice softened into Natasha’s. “Look, Pepper, this isn’t a slight against you, but nobody expects you to fight back. Because, as you said, you _don’t_ have the training I have, or Agent Hill has, or Lady Sif. I can pretend to be the sort of person you are, and it gives me an edge. The first strike you make, the one that reveals that you’re more than you seem?” She smiled, eyes sharp. “It can hurt, if you know where to plant it.”

“In their balls,” Pepper muttered. “Tend to deserve it there.”

“And it hurts.” Natasha turned to face forward again as they reached the end of the stairs and looped her arm around Pepper’s shoulders. “Surprisingly enough, most trained combatants nowadays don’t understand how to fight when they’re hurt.”

Pepper smiled a little. The weight of Natasha’s arm felt surprisingly good; pressure and warmth and safe, despite how well she knew the woman could incapacitate anyone who stood in her way.

“Anyway, Happy doesn’t think about it that way.” Natasha pulled open a final door and led Pepper into the gym, where she steered her towards mats. “He’s a boxer first and martial artist on the side. One of those is pure force, the second has elements of the strategy I want to teach you, but his style forgets to incorporate that properly.” Natasha slid away from Pepper and knelt to remove her shoes, gesturing for Pepper to do the same as she kept talking. “For instance, high-heels can spear a person’s foot, if they aren’t wearing armored shoes. Even if you don’t have high-heels, stamping someone’s foot is still painful for them.”

Pepper shook her head, amazed at all that Natasha was spelling out to her. She’d taken self-defense classes; of course she had, once it became obvious that she and Tony were in a relationship. And there, she’d been told much of this, but in a surprisingly condescending way, and with some opportunity to practice it against people who were very obviously just going along with the form, not really fighting to harm her or reacting to pain.

“Confused?”

“Wha— oh, no.” Pepper blushed. “You make it all sound so obvious.”

“Practice.” Natasha crouched on her toes, jeans bending surprisingly well. “You aren’t the first person I’ve coached in this, though I think you might be the one who’s needed it most.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew.

“Most people aren’t dating a superhero who likes painting a target on his back,” Natasha said, voice dry. “Generally, people stop at either ‘superhero’ or ‘asking for it’, and don’t tend to remember social skills well enough to date anybody who isn’t in the same situation.”

Pepper laughed, nodding. “He’s special. Even if he won’t admit it half the time and goes around shouting about it the other half, and self-destructs on it every couple weeks.” She sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged beside Natasha. “But he’s a good person,” she added, voice softened, “and he’ll go to the ends of the Earth for people he cares about.”

“He’s burying himself in his workshop so that he can’t worry about you, right now.”

She sighed. “I’m... yeah, he does that.”

Even without looking at Natasha, Pepper could feel her gaze, especially in the silence that echoed through the open room. She shifted, uncomfortable, but not quite willing to say anything. In the quiet, noise seemed painful enough to suffocate her entirely.

“Pepper. It’s okay.” Natasha’s voice rippled through the room, clearing the quiet that wrapped around her. “He was doing this after New York, too, wasn’t he? It’s his way of coping. It doesn’t mean you need to change how _you_ are coping.”

Pepper looked up at Natasha, hesitant to meet her eyes. “I know, I guess? It’s just...”

“He went through less than you, Pepper.” Natasha fell forward onto her knees and reached out, placing a hand on each of Pepper’s shoulders. “And, more importantly, it’s not the first time this has happened to him. He’s got his own things to cope with, but he can put that aside for you. He’ll need to process things eventually, but if his coping mechanism right now is realizing that he still wants to be Iron Man and that means he now needs to build another suit—” she smiled, wry “—then let him. He’ll be okay.”

“And I won’t be?” Pepper demanded, face heating up.

“If you worry about Tony first and yourself second?” Natasha shook her head. “I don’t think so. And he’ll heal himself faster if he knows you’re doing your best to be okay.”

Pepper looked down, unable to keep looking into her piercing eyes. “I... guess.”

“Good.” She squeezed Pepper’s shoulders and then let go, standing in one smooth movement and offering Pepper a hand. “Then let me start showing you some ways to hurt the next slimebag to try to use you.”

Pepper took her hand (strong, callused, smaller than her own) and let the Black Widow pull her to her feet. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s try this.”


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha stayed at the tower for fourteen days, thirteen longer than Pepper expected. When she’d asked, after the first day, how long Natasha would be staying, she’d simply received a shrug and “Fury wants Stark Industries, but S.H.I.E.L.D. _needs_ Stark Industries”, which was terrifying and comforting in equal measure.

When dinner came around at the end of the first week, Pepper sat in the kitchen on her Starkpad while Natasha grilled a vegetable mix. Into the silence, Natasha said, “I’ll be leaving in a week.”

“I can’t tell if I’m surprised you’re staying that long or sad you’re leaving so soon.” she said, looking up from Stark Industries’ departmental reports.

Natasha shrugged, not looking away from the stove. “My jobs can only wait so long, and I’ve been pushing that line as hard as I can.”

“But...” Pepper couldn’t finish the sentence. There were too many possible endings, and none of them were what she really wanted to say, and Natasha wouldn’t believe her anyway.

“You’ll be fine, Pepper.” She turned the stove off with a sharp _click_ and turned. “You have the grounding you need to survive. You have _Stark_ looking out for you, and I know that’s sometimes not the most comforting thing ever, but he means well.”

Pepper bit her lip and looked back at her emails.

Natasha’s voice softened. “Look, I can tell you what I went through. I can tell you how I coped. But I am not the best resource you have, Pepper. I’ve unreliable and I’ve done worse things than most people can imagine. S.H.I.E.L.D. has therapists and nobody’s bothered sending me to one since the initial psych eval where I stymied them all. But you aren’t me.” She laughed a little. “You shouldn’t _want_ to be me, anyway. I’m _far_ too violent.”

“You don’t crack when confronted with violence, either.”

“And you _want_ to become accustomed to that?”

Pepper looked up, and Natasha’s face was that of the Black Widow instead now, hard and cruel, eyes dark under the cover of her bangs. Seeing her like this, body held differently in such subtle ways, Pepper fought the impulse to run and cower. She was better than that impulse, she told herself, and she took a deep breath and said, “No. But there’s a difference between being accustomed to something and being able to face it without running away.”

The Black Widow smiled. “You can control the storm that is Tony Stark, and you can shape the chaos of a board meeting, yet you fear battle. Why?”

“I don’t know how to fight.” Her fingers wrapped around the edges of the Starkpad, curved lines cutting into her flesh. “I know how to debate. I know how to change minds. There’s a difference.”

“Fighting’s about controlling minds as much as bodies, Pepper.” Natasha began walking a slow circle around the edge of the room, eyes kept on Pepper. “I fight with trickery. I use expectations and subvert them. Is that different from what you do every day?”

“No, but—”

“I can punch someone and knock them out, throw men twice my size out a window.” The Black Widow waved her hand, grace almost hiding the danger. “You hit a man who had withstood multiple attacks from Iron Man with a pipe and did at least as much damage as any of the Iron Man suits. You are one of the only people who has _worn_ an Iron Man suit. You have power, Pepper. Some of it is as violent as I can be, but here’s the difference: I am a spy who has been an assassin. You are a CEO who is also a woman.”

Pepper blinked, body relaxing instinctively as Natasha smiled gently at her. “I don’t understand.”

“We have both been shaped by our lives, Pepper.” Natasha perched on the counter. “I was shaped to learn secrets and harm those who could harm me or my employer. You were shaped to lead. I cannot do what you do, Pepper, or at least not as well as what I have been taught my whole life. Why should you be able to face an abusive man without fear?” Her face darkened for a moment. “Those are always the worst to face, anyway,” she added more softly. “It’s easier to face those who have harmed those you care about than those who hurt you.”

For long breaths, Pepper didn’t respond. She just stared at Natasha, who sat there uncaring and unknowable as ever, almost perfectly still save for her breathing. When she sorted her thoughts out, she said, “So you think therapy is the answer for me?”

“Self-defense training will also help, I think, as will time. But yes, therapy. Your experience is far closer to what it was designed for than anything I’ve gone through.” Natasha grinned. “You might even be able to convince Stark that it would help him.”

Pepper laughed.

“I know, I know, it’s unlikely, but it _might_ happen.”

“Would you ask S.H.I.E.L.D. for me?” Pepper asked. “I don’t think civilian resources will do me much good, considering the security clearance needed for a proper description of Extremis itself, let alone my own circumstances.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ve already started putting out feelers, but I didn’t want to do much until you’d consented to the idea.”

Pepper held up a finger and wagged it at Natasha. “I never promised anything.”

“But you’ve asked about therapists. That’s consenting to the idea at least.”

“True.” Pepper grimaced. “Tony won’t be happy.”

“Is he ever really happy outside of his workshop?”

“I...” She looked down at the Starkpad, at her fingers twining around its edges. “In the past? Yes. Now? I don’t know. He hasn’t been for a while, at least.”

Natasha slid off the counter and landed with what Pepper knew had to be an intentionally audible sound. When the other woman placed a hand on her shoulder, Pepper leaned into the touch. “He’s got a lot to work through,” Natasha said quietly. “I’m glad he has someone like you to help him.”

Pepper sighed. “Yeah. It’s hard, though.”

“It seems worth it to you.”

“If it weren’t, I would have left.” She shrugged. “But now his company is mine, for better or worse, and I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself if I left the company, and I don’t think he’d know what to do with the company if I left him.”

Natasha squeezed her shoulder. “That can’t be all of it, though.”

“No, but it’s easier to think about this way.” She placed her own hand on Natasha’s. “Thank you.”

“The world is a better place with you around, Pepper.”

Pepper looked up, startled by how serious Natasha’s tone was.

“I mean it, Pepper. Working with you when I was undercover was a gift, and I’m glad that you chose to remain friends with me after my true role was revealed.”

“I don’t meet many people capable of keeping up with me, let alone Tony.” Pepper smiled. “I couldn’t let one go just because her real employers wanted to know more about us, especially since you helped us out.”

“I’m glad.”

Pepper wove her fingers into Natasha’s and leaned into the Black Widow’s side. “So am I.”

-=-

A week later, Pepper dressed formally to see Natasha off, though Natasha wore the same casual outfit she’d first arrived in. Upon seeing her, Natasha had raised an eyebrow, and Pepper had just smiled.

“I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to face the world through this shield,” Natasha said, as they stood on the roof of Stark Tower, awaiting a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter.

“I can’t hide forever. The nicer I look, the more I am forgiven.”

Natasha laughed. “The same rules I use to be a spy, you use to rule a company.”

“If it works, use it.”

The two smiled at each other as they heard the helicopter in the air. Pepper stepped away as the wind started whipping up, calling “Keep in touch!” at Natasha as she stood, hair a fiery halo around her head, before the descending helicopter.

The Black Widow laughed, raising a hand in acknowledgement, and turned to the helicopter. As it came near the surface, she ran and jumped, catching hold of an agent’s hand inside and disappearing within before it touched down.

Pepper stood and watched as the sleek black helicopter rose back into the sky and turned away, off to yet another secret mission that no doubt somehow shaped the world. She couldn’t do anything like that, true. But she ran Stark Industries. If she couldn’t change the world with that, she didn’t know what could.

She nodded to herself and turned and walked inside. It was time to get to work.

**Author's Note:**

> To be fair, there might be more. But this is an end, and I like it for that.


End file.
